To the people who have come to realize that Optimus dying in a series has become normalized, it doesn't mean he has to die during the middle of it or by being killed off. He can die at the end of the series peacefully of old age or a version of him could have died long before the series began.
I mean, in my fanfic, THE Optimus Prime is already dead. Human Orion Pax is just wearing title as a monicker because his DNA and Optimus' CNA were compatible. It really is a costume. Kind of like how Clark Kent Superman and Jon Kent Superman have similar costumes, but are not the same guy.
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Guess who hasn’t gone to bed yet and stayed up to write this mess of fluff?
♪~ ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ
Hope you enjoy! <3
~Reyna
"...And we'll station our troops here in this thicket. They'll be well-protected, so long as they stay out of sight."
"Mm-hm."
"I also thought that we could make use of this river here. If we control the bridge, then we have control of the battle."
"Mm-hm."
"...I was also considering wearing a bright, blonde wig and some make-up. I think I'd make a rather fetching distraction, don't you?"
"Mm-hm."
Ah-ha. Claude knew it--she wasn't listening to him at all.
"Teach?" he called, briefly grasping Byleth's shoulder to give her a bit of a shake. She gave a little start, her bright eyes widening a touch before her normal, neutral look returned.
"Hmm?" she hummed again, looking at him expectantly. Claude, for his part, playfully pouted at her.
"Is planning the strategy for our next battle so boring that you would rather daydream instead? How heartless of you, my friend."
Byleth gave him a slow blink, lowering her eyes back to the map.
"Sorry," she said quietly, crossing her arms over her stomach.
"Hey, I understand. It's late. Clearly, you'd rather be in bed."
"No...it isn't that."
"No? Then what ails you, my friend?"
A tiny sigh escaped Byleth, her brow puckering. Anyone who knew her five years ago compared to now would be astonished by this show of emotion, but Claude simply couldn't stop looking at her. The war had changed many things for him, setting setbacks in motion that gave him headaches when he paused to ponder them. But Byleth expressing her emotions made him almost think it was worth it, some days. So untouched by time as she was these past five years, it was honestly a relief to see this change, at least.
Her silence, while not uncommon, was troubling in this circumstance; the longer she kept quiet, the more Claude began to worry.
"Teach?" he prompted again when it seemed like she would keep her silence for the rest of the night. Her brows furrowed further, and her gaze flickered up to him. His stomach did that annoying swooping thing it did whenever she made eye contact, so he had to exert a little more effort to listen to her.
"...n't like it," she mumbled, glancing away swiftly once the words were out.
"Pardon?" Claude asked, leaning lower so he could hear her better. "Didn't catch that first part, Teach."
Byleth exhaled through her nose and closed her eyes, Claude growing more mystified the longer he watched her. Her cheeks were growing rosy...she wasn't suffering a fever, was she?
"I don't like it," she repeated herself. She opened her eyes to frown down at the map, and Claude's attention returned to it as well, perplexed. Had she been listening to him after all, keeping her criticisms to herself until now?
"Oh, you don't like the thicket plan? Or are you talking about the bridge? You couldn't possibly be shooting down my wig-and-make up plan, that's pure genius--"
"Claude."
"I jest, of course," Claude teased with a wink before he began to regard Byleth with curiosity once more. "But you'll have to be a little more specific, my friend. What don't you like?"
Byleth sighed again, this time through her mouth. A hand came up to twist a strand of her mint hair between her fingers. Claude idly wondered if her hair was as soft as it looked.
"I don't like it when you call me that."
Claude blinked. Well, there was something he hadn't expected her to say.
"What? 'My friend'?" He let a hand rest on his hip, the other tapping the forgotten map in front of them as he attempted to puzzle out the mystery beside him. "But we are friends, are we not?"
Byleth looked up at him from under her lashes, and it was his heart's turn to do the swooping thing.
"...We are," she confirmed a beat late, as if she needed a moment to ponder the validity of their friendship. "But still, I'd prefer you to call me something else."
"Oh? Gotten too used to 'Teach'?" Claude teased with a grin. He only referred to her that way out of habit; it had been years since she'd been his beloved professor. Well...'professor' was an outdated title, but 'beloved'...
Byleth shook her head before Claude could get flustered by his own thoughts like an idiot.
"Not that, either," she protested. Claude felt his brow furrow as he stared at her, trying to figure her out. If his usual titles would not do...
"...Byleth?" he tried, the name foreign on his tongue. This was probably the first time he'd ever called her by her given name. To her face, at least.
The redness in Byleth's face grew, but she still shook her head.
"Close, but no."
"...Well, hell. I must confess it--you have me stumped." Claude sat on the edge of the table in front of them, smiling politely while his eyes roamed curiously over Byleth, devouring and dissecting her every move. "What, pray tell, do you wish for me to call you...?"
It wasn't until the blush reached all the way under Byleth's bangs that she looked him square in the eye and answered.
"'My love'."
Claude nearly slipped onto the floor in shock.
He gawked at Byleth, feeling his own temperature rise. Was he dreaming right now? Was this a sweet dream induced by delirium? Was he lying crumpled on a battlefield, having conjured this moment from the deepest desires of his heart to have one final sweet moment before slipping away into the realm of the dead? Or...could this be?
Was this...real?
Though she looked plenty embarrassed, Byleth stared straight at him, her eyes clear and strong. She was always like that--facing difficult tasks head-on. It was one of the many things Claude admired about her.
Well, the least he could do was match her bravery, right?
Clearing his throat, he stood proper once again, moving a little closer to Byleth. She held her ground, never breaking gazes with him, even as he slid a hand up her neck to cup her cheek.
"...My love," Claude said, testing the words on his tongue. They sounded off, even to him, and Byleth's accompanying flat look told him as much.
'Like you mean it,' her eyes commanded him. Claude smiled a little, his head lowering far enough that their lips were barely a breath away.
"My love," he whispered, the words reverent as his thumb stroked her cheek. And oh, the most brilliant smiled graced her lips at the words, her hand reaching up to cup his own. "My love," he crooned once more before he pressed his lips to hers.
The kiss was ill-advised; there was a reason Claude had been keeping a careful distance from Byleth ever since she returned. There were things he had to do, and to do them, he would have to leave Fodlan as soon as the war was over, if not sooner. He couldn't afford to be in love right now.
But, judging from the way his heart thudded in his chest as Byleth gripped his shirt and pulled him closer, Claude had to admit defeat. How was he supposed to hang onto this accursed heart when it was fighting so hard to jump right into Byleth's hands?
They parted to breathe, and Claude sighed out the regrets of his pragmatic side. This was so very, very stupid.
But seeing Byleth smile at him so radiantly made him want to be the King of Fools, with how deliriously happy he was right now.
"Well...would you like it if I started calling you 'my love' from now on?"
Byleth paused to think about it.
"It would probably be best if you limited it to when we're alone." Her expression went flat again. "No need to feed the wolves."
Ah, yes--the former Golden Deer house. They were insatiable, and just about salivated every time Claude and Byleth so much as looked at each other. Of course, they could never know how right they were, or Claude would never hear the end of it.
"You're right, of course." Claude smiled down at her, tucking her hair behind her ear. Oh, look at that--it was as soft as it looked. "Only in private, then." That seemed to please Byleth, so Claude chose to tease her more.
"And what shall my new nickname be?" he wondered, raising a challenging eyebrow. He watched, entertained, as Byleth pursed her lips in thought before she raised her hands, raking them through his hair. Claude hummed in content, but then she paused, her thumbs poking him from the sides of his head. Claude noticed in the mirror that hung behind Byleth that her fingers were splayed, giving him makeshift antlers.
"Deer," she said with such a straight face that Claude couldn't help but throw his head back and laugh from his soul.
Monicker m-2 ‘brass edition’
Prototype ‘Monicker m-2’ watch design - 3d printing & lasercutting
(Commissioned by Monicker)
The brass sleeve can be changed by any other material like ‘bronze’, ‘black steel’, ‘sterling silver’, ‘gold’ and ‘platinum’
We started by rethinking manufacturing. Instead of producing in bulk, every Monicker is made on demand. Production is pretty straightforward and completely transparant. One purchase means an order for a casing gets sent to the 3D printer. There are no hidden materials, there’s nothing between the lines. The consumer has full control over her Monicker. She can take it apart easily and replacing parts is just as uncomplicated.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Prototype ‘Monicker’ watch design - 3d printing & lasercutting
(Commissioned by Monicker)
Monicker Watches is created to introduce change in the way we manufacture luxury products, our objective is to divert from production blueprints and get you of the beaten path.
We started by rethinking manufacturing. Instead of producing in bulk, every Monicker is made on demand. Production is pretty straightforward and completely transparant. One purchase means an order for a casing gets sent to the 3D printer. There are no hidden materials, there’s nothing between the lines. The consumer has full control over her Monicker. She can take it apart easily and replacing parts is just as uncomplicated.
Monicker is not just eco-conscious, she’s also freaking pretty. I mean, look at her. She’s clean, a true featherweight and she caters to your whatever look you’re into. When you purchase a Monicker, you’re investing in sustainability and a cleaner future: something so sorely missed in the production of luxury products today.
